


Different Worlds, Same Grief

by captainofbrooklyn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainofbrooklyn/pseuds/captainofbrooklyn
Summary: SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WARThe last image he saw of Steve was one of confusion. His lips were parted, eyebrows scrunched in the way he did when he leaned over maps back in the war. If Steve said anything, Bucky didn’t hear it, for he collapsed on the ground with a force of a feather drifting downward.Bucky Barnes awakes after the battle knowing one truth-Steve Rogers is gone.





	Different Worlds, Same Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Infinity War guys! Anyways, this fic subscribes to the theory that everyone who disappeared in the movie just got transported to another reality. So from Bucky's perspective, Steve was the one who vanished. I hope you enjoy!

The last image he saw of Steve was one of confusion. His lips were parted, eyebrows scrunched in the way he did when he leaned over maps back in the war. If Steve said anything, Bucky didn’t hear it, for he collapsed on the ground with a force of a feather drifting downward.

The next thing he saw was gray walls staring at him, with a few doctors worriedly whispering to each other. He recognized them-these were the doctors that helped treat him, along with King T’Challa’s sister, Shuri. He tried to call out to them, but all that came out of his mouth was a sputtered moan. 

“Peace, White Wolf,” someone said. Bucky turned slightly to the left, and saw T’Challa, along with Sam. “You were unconscious for an unknown amount of time. You need rest.” Bucky could say the same for the other man. T’Challa had dark circles under his eyes, and his posture was hunched, unlike the stiff, regal way he used to hold himself. 

But he held himself back from commenting on any of that, and instead managed to spit out, “Where’s Steve? Did we win?” He coughed, but still saw the looks on the other man’s face. 

“Bucky………..” Sam began, but drifted off. He glanced back to T’Challa, who sighed heavily before taking a seat in a nearby chair. 

“No, we did not.” 

“What?” Bucky shot up, and had to held down by Sam. “But how come we’re still here? Didn’t those aliens want to destroy the entire universe?” 

“Not quite.” Sam muttered. “Almost wish that was the case.” 

A doctor handed T’Challa a tablet that was on one of the tables. The king stared at it for a few moments, then put it down. “There are reports of a mass amount of people vanishing into thin air. There were plenty of my people who suffered the same fate. There was nothing linking every person together-not race, gender, wealth, or nationality. It was random. They just simply were gone.” 

“Steve.” He didn’t phrase it as a question. Bucky knew in his gut that the end of the line had finally came. “He’s gone.” 

Sam nodded. “Steve, Natasha, Thor, Banner, all of them.” He saw the look on Bucky’s face, and decided to stare at the floor. “I don’t know what we can do Barnes. I just don’t know.” 

T’Challa rose from his seat. “I have to make a speech to my people, as well as begin funeral arrangements for my sister.” Then he left, his mask of emotionlessness only broken by the choked sound he made when he opened the door. 

“So this is it?” he said to Sam. “We just give up? There has to be something we can do-” 

Sam gazed at him, a melancholy expression painting his face. “Without those Stones, there’s nothing we can do. And now that Thanos has them all, there’s nothing we can do to stop him.” 

Bucky closed his eyes. He refused to believe that was it. There was no way Steve-good, righteous Steve-was dead while he was alive. The last word Bucky said to him-Steve?-couldn’t encapsulate everything he wanted to say. All the I love yous and Stay safe, punks couldn’t be summarized with one word. “You can’t say that. Steve wouldn’t want us to give up like that.” 

“Steve would want us to stay alive, Barnes.” He sighed. “Look, I don’t like this anymore than you. Steve is-was-he was great. We’d go running every morning and get the paper-” he stopped. “He’s gone, Bucky. He’s gone.”  
Hesitantly, he reached out for Sam’s hand with his real arm. The other man took it, and they stayed that way for hours, mourning the man who was like no one before and who no one would be like after. 

 

The next morning, Bucky was allowed to leave the healing room. He’d immediately fled the palace, ignoring the looks of the Dora Milaje and townspeople. He went to the tiny hut he’d been staying at when Shuri was healing him-Shuri, who was now dead, all because some purple jackass snapped his fingers. He started running to the small structure, almost like he was trying to run away from Steve’s death himself. 

Steve. That little punk who could never back away from a fight. The strangely large man rescuing him from Zola’s lab, asking if Bucky was okay when he’d just grown six feet all. Steve’s hands getting smudged with pencil while he doodled in his notebook. Steve’s smile when Bucky got him ice cream at Coney Island, though he could barely afford it. The last Steve gave him, warm and promising even at the end of the world. 

I’m with you till the end of the line, pal. But here Bucky is, while Steve is gone-a liar all the same. He chokes back a sob. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Bucky could feel himself getting better-Shuri herself confirmed HYDRA couldn’t use those stupid words to control him anymore. He was supposed to heal, Steve would come back, and then-

Then what? Steve never knew how he felt. Bucky was too cowardly to tell him, even right before he went under into cryo. He imagined what would’ve happened if he had-if he’d leaned in to kiss those pink lips right as the ice froze his entire body. Would Steve have kissed back? Or would he have spat in disgust, and be lost to Bucky forever? 

 

He’s lost to me now, though, he thought. And there’s nothing I can do about it. He sat down on the grass and picked up a handful of it. It was charred, a reminder of the battle that occured yesterday. A battle that ended with Steve, and half of the world, vanishing like they never existing in the first place. 

Bucky didn’t believe in God. He always scoffed at his mother, clutching her Bible like a lifeline. He’d laughed at his grandfather, murmuring soft prayers for Bucky’s uncle, who died in the Great War. But he could see why they believed in that. The idea that Steve was gone was incomprehensible. He had to be somewhere, a place where the living couldn’t reach him. Somewhere where, just maybe, he was happy. 

Bucky let go of the grass in his hand, watching as the wind picked it up and carried it to unknown places. He wondered what Steve was thinking, if he was watching over Bucky right now. Maybe his hand was one his shoulder. Maybe his arms were wrapped around Bucky’s chest. Maybe his lips were on Bucky’s lips, giving him the kiss he’d wanted for seventy years. 

If Steve had to die, why couldn’t Bucky die too? Why did they have to be separated, again, instead of being together? It was as if there was some higher power always forcing them apart every time they got too close. 

“I’m with you to the end of the line pal,” he laughed bitterly. “If only that were the case.”


End file.
